


let me lend a helping hand

by wistfulwatcher



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Seduction, Smut, [insert other vaguely noble-sounding excuse to bang], a smidge of angst, also this takes place sometime in the future but not super far, and a few feelings, cat knows about supergirl, doing it for the good of mankind??, in the realm of aliens made them do it/sex pollen adjacent, sex to save the world?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5912905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulwatcher/pseuds/wistfulwatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Kara,” Cat sighs, and her hand glances back up her arm until she’s curling her fingers over Kara’s dress. “Being a journalist requires some creative thought. Can you really not think of a single other thing that would trigger a burst of adrenaline?” </p><p>Kara’s brows furrow a bit and she—oh.</p><p>
  <i>Oh.</i>
</p><p>
  <b>or, the one where Cat learns about solar flare and does her civic duty.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a part two of this planned, but it will also be very low (read: non-existent) on plot, so don't go into this thinking there's gonna be much more than sex (and feelings~) at some point.

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grant,” Kara sighs, and pushes at her glasses with one hand as she takes the sheets Cat hands her with the other.

As she turns to take them down to editing, Cat orders, “Stop.” And, of course, Kara does. When she turns back, Cat’s eyes are narrowed, sizing her up. “I don’t mean your usual terrible,” she gestures with a sneer at Kara’s cardigan, and Kara looks up and to the side, telling herself to let the words roll off of her. “You look worn out.”

Kara scoffs a little at that, and looks Cat in the eye. Kara’s more daring around Cat these days. Not really what you’d call comfortable, but it’s been _different_ since Cat had joined Team Supergirl. Well, joined wasn’t exactly the right word—steamrolled her way in, perhaps. It hasn't really equalized their power dynamic (fairly impressive on Cat's part, considering they both know Kara is the most powerful woman in the city and Kara _still_ fears giving her a cold latte) but it has certainly brought them closer to some kind of equilibrium. 

“Dare I say, _human_.” Cat adds, the slightest inflection at the end indicating that Kara should confirm or allay her suspicions.

Kara rolls her ankle a few times as she debates what to do, Cat’s focus never wavering. Finally, Kara looks over her shoulder to make sure no one is near Cat’s office, before walking back toward her desk and leaning over it a little.

Cat’s eyes sparkle with interest as she leans back in her chair to look up at Kara better, and waits with a raised brow.

“I blew out my powers again.”

“Again?” Cat props her elbow on her desk, her thumb fidgeting over her usual statement ring a moment. “Like you did the day of the earthquake?" 

Kara squares her jaw, a little embarrassed. “Among other times, yes.” Cat continues to watch her, so Kara shifts the sheets between her hands and murmurs, “It happens when I concentrate my heat vision into, um, well, it’s called solar flare.” Kara adjusts her glasses again, too aware of Cat’s intense focus on her. “I expend too much energy and need to...recharge.” 

It still makes Kara nervous to tell Cat these things casually, to let her know things about her powers, about her limits. Part of her involvement in their team included a deal not to publish anything without Kara’s OK—for the good of the city, Kara had argued—and Cat had reluctantly (and a bit unconvincingly) agreed.

But this is Cat Grant, ruthless journalist, so Kara takes every step with a bit of caution. 

Still, Cat’s interest seems tempered, and she simply asks, “ _Solar flare_?” in distaste, her nose wrinkling. Kara feels her spine stiffen defensively for her cousin, but Cat keeps going. “First of all,” her voice lowers a bit, aware of the semi-public nature of their conversation, “I don’t believe I should need to remind you that I am a part of your little club now. And as such, I should be kept in the loop on these sorts of things, don’t you think?”

Cat waits for a response, and Kara nods after a moment. “Yes, uh, yeah, I guess.” Cat doesn’t seem impressed. “Sorry, Ms. Grant,” Kara adds.

“Wouldn’t you agree that Supergirl being powerless is something that might require a quick status update?”

Kara sighs. “I suppose so,” she says slowly, irritation at Cat’s condescending tone starting to rile her on what is already a very, very bad day. Solar flare recovery days leave her feeling much too exposed and vulnerable, for obvious reasons, and being admonished by Cat Grant is unpleasant enough when she’s at full power.

Cat watches her for a long moment, before dropping her arm down to rest across her desk. Leaning forward onto her forearms, she asks. “Alright. So, how do we fix it?” 

“Fix it?” Kara asks, brows wrinkling in confusion.

“Your powers, Kiera,” Cat sighs. “What do you need to get them back?”

“Oh,” Kara says simply, and shrugs a shoulder. “Just wait.”

“ _Wait_?” Cat’s eyes narrow. “You just _wait_ for them to come back? What happens to National City while you’re having your little R &R?”

Words of self-defense (that sound suspiciously like Alex) start to form on her tongue, but a wave of guilt hits her before she can say anything. It’s an issue she’s gone over a million times—the thought that something bad could happen to someone she had the ability to save while she’s just letting her body recharge.

Logically, she knows it’s necessary. That she needs to be realistic in her limitations because “even Supergirl has them”. (Alex’s voice again, of course.) Her friends keep her in check about it for the most part. Keep her from burning herself and her powers out even more than she would.

But Cat has all of these _expectations_ for Supergirl that speak to Kara’s desire to save as many people as she can. And it’s bad, she knows it’s enabling in a way, and that she uses Cat’s idealism about Supergirl to justify her own somewhat foolish risks.

Still, as far as _unhealthy behaviors_ —quiet, Alex—go, wanting to help too many people has to be one of the better ones, Kara figures.

Her conflicted feelings must show on her face, because Cat tilts her head in that way she does when she catches a thread to pull at. And she pulls: “There isn’t _anything_ you can do to speed the process along?” 

Kara looks down at the prints between her hands. She tries, for a good long ten seconds, not to say anything. To keep a secret from Cat, because she never quite knows what Cat is going to do with one; the trust between them has certainly grown in the month or so that Cat has known about Supergirl, but there is always _something_ between them even as they get closer that Kara can’t figure out. Something that makes her nervous, makes her fidget and twitch.

“Well,” Kara hedges, gives herself a few last seconds to lie to herself and pretend she might not spill her secrets just because Cat Grant asks her to. “A surge of adrenaline can help,” she looks back up at Cat, and watches her face, the clear fascination with Kara—well, Supergirl, she reminds herself—on her face.

“Adrenaline,” Cat repeats, and leans back in her chair, hands spread out on her desk as she absorbs the information.

Cat’s lips seem to turn up into a bit of a slow smile, the kind that makes Kara start to get a little jumpy. Uncomfortable under Cat’s intense focus, she explains, “The first time—the earthquake—James was in danger, and the terror, I guess, is what kick-started them.

“And another time there was a little girl in a fire,” she says softer, the memory of the girl crying still far too vivid. “I was so scared for her that they returned then, too.” 

“How empathetic,” she says it dryly, but there is something a little soft in Cat's expression, Kara thinks. “So,” she stands up, fingers trailing over her desk’s edge before gesturing to the balcony doors. “So if I were to, I don't know, fall over the edge of the building—”

Kara’s heart beats faster. “Don't,” she snaps quickly, tone harsh enough to stun Cat as well as herself. “Don't even joke about that,” she says in a more normal voice, though she thinks she hears it quiver a bit at the end. 

Cat settles her hands on her hips. “I see,” she says evenly, and Kara isn't sure what to expect next. Even with their current dynamic, Cat isn't one to let anyone snap at her. “You're excused,” Cat keeps her eyes on Kara until she feels herself nod, and shuffle out of the office, prints in hand.

* * *

“Kiera!”

“Yes, Ms. Grant?” Kara enters Cat’s office, rounding her shoulders to try to alleviate the ache in her back. Possibly the worst part about being powerless at work is the realization of just her terrible her posture really is.

Cat is standing in the center of her office, not exactly unusual when she’s yelling for Kara. But when Kara comes to stand in front of her—notepad at the ready—Cat doesn’t launch into demands immediately. Instead she just...watches Kara.

“Ms. Grant?” Kara prompts after a moment, letting her arms drop a bit.

Cat looks past her, out into the bullpen, and Kara follows her gaze. The office isn’t empty yet, but it’s nearing the end of the day so it’s clearing out. Kara turns her head back, brows dipped in confusion, and Cat raises her free hand, the other gripping a half-full glass of alcohol. 

“Follow me,” she orders, and turns toward her balcony doors.

Kara’s heart starts to pound, the conversation from earlier that day too fresh in her mind, and she slips quickly out onto the balcony with her. “Ms. Grant,” she starts, her name falling past Kara’s lips.

Cat turns before she reaches the ledge, and at Kara’s surely panicked expression, she drops her shoulders, and rolls her eyes. “Oh, relax, Kiera. I’m not an idiot,” she peers over the ledge and turns back, “nor am I a martyr. My life is too valuable to this city to risk.”

Kara tries to relax, to trust Cat’s dismissive words. But it wouldn’t be the first time that Kara’s seen her put herself in danger to help Supergirl—the memory of teaming up to stop Livewire never far from Kara’s memory.

“Are you alright, Ms. Grant?” Kara prompts instead.

“Mmm,” Cat hums, and takes a drink. Setting the glass down on the ledge of the balcony, she pops one hip out, and slides her hands to settle on either side of her waist, much slower than usual. Cat seems different right now, calculated in a way that isn’t related to a story, to success the way that Kara has seen her act a million times over.

She seems pointed but not _driven_ , not exactly. It’s oddly disarming, Kara has to admit.

And being disarmed when she is so literally stripped of her defenses, well, it was not high on her list today.

“I’m fine, Kiera,” she murmurs, and without her super-hearing, Kara has a hard time catching the words. “I’ve been thinking,” she says, louder, and walks over to one of the chairs beside the window wall of her office.

“OK,” Kara nods slowly, and moves closer toward the seating area. Slowly, Cat pulls the sides of her blazer away from her, and starts to gracefully shrug it off. Underneath she has a simple white silk shell tucked into her skirt, and Kara’s breath catches. It’s nothing revealing, nothing exposing more shoulders or neck or _skin_ than when she wears a sleeveless dress.

But something about the way Cat takes her jacket off, the way she keeps her focus so concentrated on Kara while she does it, makes Kara swallow hard. 

Attention still focused on Kara, Cat drapes the jacket over the arm of the chair, and leans her leg against it, her hip popping out again so she can set her fingers over the curve of her body.

Perhaps it’s the cooling night air that Kara is so unused to feeling—she shivers. “Sit,” Cat orders, but the command is not clipped, not barked. Not a command at all, really. Her voice is pure suggestion, her lips turned into the smallest of smiles.

Kara swallows again, her heart beating faster. “That’s OK, Ms. Grant, I—”

“Kiera,” Cat’s eyes are dark. “Sit. _Please_ ,” she adds, and the word sounds foreign passing between Cat’s lips.

Something hot rushes through her at the sound, too, she can’t quite place it, but she wants to listen to Cat’s command, wants to do what she says. So she does. Kara sets the notebook down on the ground beside the chair, hands suddenly clammy, and brushes them over the back of her dress before she sits down.

Cat is still standing beside her own chair, looking down at Kara. Glancing beside her, she can see that Cat’s office curtains have been drawn mostly, just a bit of a sliver of window exposed toward the edge of the balcony. 

To be honest, she’s not sure if she feels safer with them drawn, or open.

“This recovery period,” Cat starts now that Kara is seated, “have you tried to jump-start it?”

Cat’s voice isn’t as soft as it usually is when they discuss Supergirl at work, and Kara feels herself even more on-edge. The balcony door is still open, her office doors are, too, and the bullpen isn’t empty yet. It’s not very likely that anyone would follow them out to the balcony—it certainly hasn’t happened before—but it isn’t like they’re _alone_ either.

“Well, like I said, when I saved people…” Kara trails off, feeling a little ashamed that, well, no, she hasn’t ever tried to jump-start it. Not that it would be ethical or safe for anyone who tried to help her do so anyway. (And—she shudders at the memory of that first recovery period, a dying father's blood on her hands—she knows she couldn't handle the consequences if it didn't work.) But still, Cat is pointing out a failure of sorts, and Kara doesn’t like to feel like she did anything less than her best. Especially in front of Cat.

“I see,” Cat purses her lips, and her foot taps a bit in thought. “So, terror is the only trigger you’ve found?” Kara nods. “And a scary movie marathon, that wouldn’t do it?" 

Her words seem a bit sarcastic, but there is genuine curiosity on her face when she waits for Kara’s response. “No,” Kara rests her hands in her lap. “It’s got to be an extreme rush of adrenaline, according to Winn.”

Cat hums again, and pushes herself away from the chair. “And terror is the only thing you can think of that would fit that description?” she starts to walk away from Kara, back toward her drink on the balcony ledge, and Kara fidgets with her fingers.

“I, uh, I guess? Everyone tells me not to push it, not to push _myself_. That they blow out for a reason and I just need to,” she hesitates on the offensive word, “wait.” 

“That doesn’t seem practical,” Cat says, and this time she walks closer to the balcony doors, out of Kara’s sight line.

Cat doesn’t continue, and Kara’s leg starts to bounce a bit. “I know it’s not ideal, but I can see where they’re coming from,” she defends. “Obviously I don’t want to stop. I don't want to be _helpless_ ,” she winces at the word, quiets, “if someone needs me. But I can’t put someone I care about in danger just to try and get them back,” this time she defends herself.

Sometimes it’s nice to see how much Cat expects from her, how high her expectations are of Supergirl—of Kara; those lines have blurred more and more in the past month—but it puts her on the defensive a lot, too. Feeling like she’s not living up to the potential Cat sees is not something she can shake off easily.

Cat still hasn’t said anything, and Kara starts to get uneasy with her silence. “And, what if,” here she goes again, not holding back any secrets from Cat, “I push too hard and burn them out forever?”

It’s a fear she hasn’t voiced to anyone—not even Alex, whom she knows would give her the logical reasons why that won’t happen, soft eyes and a comforting hug. “I mean, everything I know about my powers is from C—my cousin,” she stumbles over his name, the one secret she _knows_ she cannot tell Cat. “It’s not exactly like limits are—”

Cat’s fingers brush over the neckline of Kara’s dress, pulling her hair away from her neck. Kara’s breath catches mid-sentence, and her back stiffens.

For a moment, she thinks she's imagined Cat’s touch. After all, it’s not like her senses are as reliable as they usually are.

Her hair shifts again, falls back against her arm as Cat pulls her hand away from Kara’s skin, and Kara can feel the cool air settle where her heat was. “Your limits are…?” Cat asks, and Kara can tell she’s still standing right behind her chair, thinks she can even feel her hand digging into the top of it.

“...known,” Kara finishes carefully, and Cat rewards the word with another stroke of her fingers over Kara’s shoulder, trailing down her arm until they brush against the skin bared by the short sleeve.

Touching like this, it isn’t something they _do_. Their comfort level around one another has increased, to be sure, and personal space has, admittedly, gotten smaller. But purposeful touches like this, that can’t be excused by a piece of lint, or crooked collar, or ink smudge, well.

It’s _new_. Cat’s touch, for the sake of _touch_ , is something Kara has only let herself have the briefest of daydreams about. Shameful, embarrassing daydreams because not in a million years did Kara think it could happen.

This crush on Cat was supposed to stay _safe_ and her feelings purely abstract, not even fully defined to herself.  

“Kara,” Cat sighs, and her hand glances back up her arm until she’s curling her fingers over Kara’s dress, settling her palm down hot on her shoulder. This isn’t the first time Cat has called her Kara, but it is rare, and only, _only_ for these Moments that they have. The ones they both ignore in the office, the ones that make it clear that they are far closer to friends than boss and employee.

“Ms. Grant,” Kara replies, still unsure of herself, and forces her fingers to stay trapped by themselves on her lap, and not reach up to take her hand.

Cat's touch is burning her, her fingers soft but firm through the material of her dress. "Being a journalist requires some creative thought," she brushes her thumb over Kara's shoulder. "Can you really not think of a single other thing that would trigger a burst of adrenaline?”

Kara’s brows furrow a bit and she—oh.

 _Oh_.

“Oh,” she murmurs, and Cat’s hand slides back, slides beneath her hair to the zipper at the top of Kara’s dress. She doesn’t pull it, just rests her fingers on the pull, and lets her thumb brush over the line of Kara’s shoulder blade.

“I,” Kara’s mouth opens a few times, her tongue feeling dry and thick in her mouth. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

Cut hums above her but says nothing. Instead she slides her hand up the back of Kara’s neck, and settles her fingers at the back of her head, nails scratching lightly over her scalp.

The sensations are _strong_. Much stronger than anything Kara’s felt in a long time, and different from the kind of sensation she feels at full power—the way it feels when she has to constantly modulate how much sense information she’s taking in.

It’s been more than a decade since Kara has been able to revel in a touch like this, think about nothing more than how something feels. How _good_ something feels, without worrying about her own reactions. 

It’s _freeing_.

Cat’s nails scrape lightly again as she shifts her hand to Kara’s upper back, and without meaning to Kara lets out a low moan.

Above her, Cat makes some kind of pleased noise in the back of her throat, but Kara can’t process it. Not when Cat is touching her zipper again, pulling it down slowly, just far enough to make it clear that _yes_ , Cat most certainly intends to have Kara bare before her.

“Worth a shot?” Cat asks slowly, and she must be leaning over the chair because her breath hits Kara’s ear, hot and a little wet, and Kara’s eyes flutter shut.

Kara’s pretty sure it’s clear that she means it when she nods, her fingers finally breaking free from her grip and slipping to curl over her knees. But Cat brushes her hair away from her neck and over one shoulder, hesitating before she pulls the zipper further. “Would you like me to give it a try, not-so-Supergirl?”

The name is so thinly insulting, and Kara can hear the smile in her voice, even as she focuses all of her energy on not combusting in response. But the purpose of the question is clear, Cat needing Kara to confirm that this is something she wants, something she wants from _Cat_ , and Kara thinks the force of her _yes_ should have damaged her lungs.

Kara’s lips have barely parted before Cat’s mouth is settling below her ear, pressing a hot kiss to she sensitive skin there. Her fingers start to tug at Kara’s zipper, the fabric getting looser until she can slip the top half down with a shrug. 

She doesn’t, can’t, just sits there gripping her knees and squeezing her eyes shut as Cat drags her teeth over Kara’s ear and her nails over Kara’s bare back.

Cat’s skin is soft, but her fingers dig in _hard_ , and Kara thinks that she might be leaving bruises on her skin. Realizes quite suddenly that Cat actually _could_ today.

The thought is a consuming one, makes her stomach muscles clench and she finally lets go of her leg to slide one hand behind her and tangle in Cat’s hair. She tries not to tug, cautious as always until she realizes she doesn’t have to be, and then her fingers tighten.

Cat’s sharp breath hits against her ear and Kara swears she can feel it through her body. The fingers on her sides grip harder, and when Kara turns to kiss Cat for the first time, she traps Cat’s hands between the fabric of the dress and her skin.

 _Oh_ , Kara thinks again when her mouth settles on Cat’s, and nothing else. Her body is still thrumming, Cat’s fingers still digging into her flesh, but everything else seems to mellow, seems to soften.

 _Oh_ , repeats itself over and over, a dozen realizations hitting her as she feels her lips part against Cat’s, and Cat smiles against hers in return.

Because _oh_ , those abstract, undefinable feelings? Are starting to take sharp, sharp shape, big shapes that she can’t ignore anymore.

Shapes she’s pretty sure she doesn’t want to.

Cat pulls back a bit, as breathless as Kara at the sudden, thick shift between them, and her hands slide out of Kara’s dress to brace herself on the arms of the chair.

Kara tucks her knees under her and turns around, kneeling on Cat’s ridiculously expensive outdoor armchair, and when their eyes meet, Kara swallows, her heart pounding harder and harder and harder.

(Subtly, she digs her fingers into the back of the chair just to see if her strength has returned from this rush. It hasn’t, but the way she feels right now? It certainly seemed possible.)

Cat’s eyes are dark but she looks _young_ , much younger than Kara’s seen her look anytime other than when she’s talking about her sons. She looks almost scared, and Kara thinks—illogically, of course—that Cat knows what she was thinking. Knows how _real_ this is for Kara.  

So, she panics. She darts forward and kisses Cat fast, sweet and hot but desperate in a way that is only partly about her need to taste Cat on her tongue, on her lips, in her throat. Her fingers are still pressed into the back of the couch, and Cat’s settle gently over them, before she slides her hands up Kara’s arms to tug at her dress.

“Wait,” Kara blinks, pulling back, another, much less personal realization washing over her. “We’re out in public,” Kara hisses, and glances at the crack of the window showing the bullpen. From this angle it wouldn’t be possible to see them, of course, but if someone were to step closer—

Cat’s eyes settle on Kara’s mouth as she says, “The only person who could see us this high up is Supergirl,” her eyes slide up to meet Kara’s, a satisfied smirk on her lips. “And I have it on good authority that she’s out of commission for the night.”

Cat leans in for another kiss, lips trailing to the corner of Kara’s mouth before Kara pushes her back a bit again. “But the office,” she gestures with her head.

“Adds a bit of danger to the situation, doesn’t it?” Cat asks knowingly, like it's part of the point of all this, and brushes Kara’s hair over her shoulders again so that Cat can lean down to kiss her throat.

Kara has a sudden urge to know just how much of Cat’s day was spent thinking about Kara’s power problem.

But her more pressing urge is to get Cat _closer_ to her, much much closer.

So she slips off of the chair, tugging Cat around it until they can press their bodies together. Cat feels tiny like this, and Kara bites back a smile at the realization that her boss has her heels on. A sudden image of Cat tucked into her chest after a night of _this_ hits her, and Cat’s tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat is fortuitously timed for the squeaking noise she makes.

Kara’s hands settle on Cat’s back, sliding down until she can start to tug the silk out of her skirt, and trace her fingers up the curve of her spine. “Mmm, I believe we were testing something,” Cat says into Kara’s chest, and tugs at the loose dress until it falls down to her hips. The thin belt around her waist catches the material, draping over the skirt of the dress and baring Kara’s upper body to the night air. 

She feels exposed, too open, but she cannot deny the thrill coursing through her at both the danger and Cat’s hungry expression.

Her bra is—thankfully—one of the plain blue cotton ones she owns, and not something with dots or stripes or little scottie dogs. (She’s not willing to to find out if the _really, Kiera_ could shame her right out of the mood.)

Instead, Cat looks up at her, her fingers splayed out over the expanse of Kara’s stomach. Slowly, her hands move up Kara’s body, from her belly up over each rib, and when Cat reaches her breasts she parts her hands to round her fingers over the side of her body. Cat’s thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts, the material of Kara’s bra feeling frustratingly thick. 

Kara’s breath is shallow, she can feel her chest moving quickly, moving against Cat’s hands, and she looks up from the sight to Cat’s face.

Her attention is focused on Kara, her eyes dark, her lips parted, and the way Cat looks so _affected_ by her, by _touching_ Kara, sets her heart pounding faster.

Cat’s eyes stay locked with Kara’s as the light, barely-there touch of her thumbs disappears so she can unclasp Kara’s bra. The rush of cool air on her nipples is startling, and Kara can feel goosebumps start to prickle on her skin. The sensations are almost completely foreign, but she doesn’t have more than a split-second to think about that when Cat starts walking her back to the armchair, her bra falling to the concrete on the way.

“Sit,” Cat commands again her voice lower this time; richer and warmer and settling over Kara like too-hot bathwater, making her curl her toes against the hard soles of her shoes.

Kara obeys, of course ( _of course_ ), and when she’s perched on the edge of the chair she pulls Cat right down onto her lap. It takes more effort than she’s used to but Cat is tiny, and even as she sinks down and kisses Kara, her weight barely registers.

Cat’s tongue flicks against her skin, her teeth trapping her bottom lip a moment before she pulls back with a soft pop.

Kara feels like she should be embarrassed—half-naked and wet and wanting with her boss’s legs wrapped around her waist—but she’s just so _not_. And to prove it to herself she slips her hands to Cat’s back, tugs at her blouse until she can slip her fingers under the silk.

Her skin is soft and smooth and thin over the curve of her spine, and when Kara strokes there Cat pulls back and lets out a moan. It’s low and it’s loud and Kara _feels_ it, around her and in her and on her, and she pushes against Cat’s back until Kara can feel the heat from between her thighs against her bare stomach. 

“Kara,” Cat moans again, her fingers threading into Kara’s hair until she can curl her fingers and tug her head back, firm but gentle. 

And then she stops.

Kara’s still got her hand under Cat’s shirt, and another resting hotly on Cat’s thigh, but when Cat freezes, so does Kara.

An overwhelming sense of loss comes over her suddenly, sure that this is Cat stopping this, stopping them, _her_. She doesn’t move as Cat looks at her eyes, darting back and forth, her own narrowing a little like she’s trying to figure her out.

(Kara would very much like to laugh at the idea that anything about this situation is unclear, but the nerves are making it hard. Plus, the self-preservation part of her brain reminds her that laughing at Cat Grant—with any intention—especially while your hand is halfway under her skirt, is probably a _terrible_ idea.)

“Is—” she starts to ask cautiously, but the sound seems to trigger whatever kind of decision Cat has been trying to make, and her nails scrape over Kara’s scalp again.

Kara can’t stop her own low moan this time, eyes closing, and when Cat tilts Kara’s neck back with another tug, she lets her. “Lie back,” Cat whispers directly into her ear, before she lets go of Kara’s hair and starts to slide away.

As soon as she feels Cat’s warmth leave, her eyes flutter open to see Cat starting to slip off of her lap. She’s almost off of her lap before she slows, and reaches her thumb and forefinger up to clasp Kara’s chin.

Holding her in place, Cat leans back in to kiss her, deep and hot and slow, until Kara thinks every nerve in her body felt it. “You should savor this,” Cat finally tells her when she pulls back. Her eyes are still dark but they seem to sparkle in the light more, though Kara thinks it might just be the stars in her own eyes. 

She barely has time to process Cat’s suggestion—as if Kara needed to be told to savor any of this—before Cat is slipping off her lap completely and down to the ground.

Kara’s heart starts to beat faster as Cat crouches in the position, and reaches out to tug Kara forward by the backs of her knees. _Lie back_ , Kara hears echo in her mind, and she has barely enough time to reach out and grip the arms of the chair before Cat’s hands have slid up her legs to her ass.

She tugs again, harder, and Kara can feel her start to spread her legs at the silent instruction. Cat’s fingers slip under the band of her panties, tugging them down, down, over her thighs until they’re out from under her skirt, visible.

“Really, Kiera,” she hears, and for a moment she thinks it’s her imagination until she remembers—there are scottie dogs on her panties today.

As it turns out, no, she is most certainly _not_ shamed out of her arousal. And—this she _is_ a bit embarrassed to think—Cat’s admonition has only made her wetter.

Cat smirks up at her, and pushes Kara’s skirt up to her hips, the loose fabric putting up none of the resistance she imagines Cat’s would. _Will_ soon, if there is any justice in the world.  

“I just grabbed— _ohhhhh_ ,” Cat slides two fingers through Kara’s slick folds and over her clit before she can defend herself, and she’s pretty sure she’ll never successfully do so again because this might be all she thinks about for the rest of her life. 

If Cat’s kisses had struck every nerve in her body, she’s not entirely sure she’ll survive this—survive _unstoppably driven Cat Grant,_ who has decided her mission right now is to make Kara come.

Her fingers curl deeper into the fabric, still not strong enough to make more than a dent in the upholstery. Even as Cat slides her other hand up the inside of Kara’s thigh and pushes, until Kara is completely open before her.

“You were saying?” Cat teases at Kara’s dropped response, and looks up at her as though she _knows_ how good Kara feels.

And then her head is dipping forward, and her mouth is on Kara, and Kara is momentarily worried that she might actually be burning through her skin. 

She’s had sex before, but it’s never felt like _this_.

Logically, she knows it’s the fact that she’s powerless. That she’s feeling everything that she hasn’t let herself before. But the infatuated-with-Cat-Grant part of her? The stupid, hopelessly optimistic and romantic part?

Cat’s fingers stroke over her thighs, firm but gentle, and Kara can’t stop the _it’s because it’s her_ that echoes in her mind.

Her heart starts pounding faster at the sensations Cat is causing, she’s starting to get fidgety, her breath becoming more shallow. Kara’s hips start rolling against Cat’s tongue—she can’t stop herself from moving into and away from the pressure on her clit, the firm strokes at her entrance. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and when Cat’s fingers curve into her hips to hold her down, she doesn’t worry about holding back _herself_.

“ _Settle_ , Kara,” Cat admonishes as pulls away from her. But when Kara’s eyes open, Cat’s wiping her thumb over her lower lip, barely obscuring the smug look on her face.

Kara would feel embarrassed about this, too, if Kara hadn’t seen her lick her lip, her nostrils flaring. If Cat didn’t look like she was _desperate_ to continue devouring her.

A thought fully supported by Cat’s quick return between her thighs.

The heat rolling throughout her body is becoming stifling, her toes pressing harder into her shoes, her back arching away from the chair. The fabric under her fingers is rough, unappealing, and she reaches instead for Cat’s hands at her hips, her right covering Cat’s left. 

Kara can feel the pressure building, and she’s aching for something to reach for, to anchor her. She’s had orgasms before, too, but ever-cautious of her powers, she’s never let _go_ the way she thinks she might be able to, the way she’s _aching_ to right now.

She’s looking down at Cat, at her ruffled silk shirt and bunched skirt and disheveled hair, and before she can stop herself Kara is reaching out with her other hand to push Cat's hair back and settle on her shoulder.

Cat’s tongue falters against her, and she pulls back a little, looks up at Kara, and Kara’s fingers stroke over the silk of her shirt.

It feels different, this touch—Kara’s need to be in contact with Cat in every possible way during this moment. “Cat,” Kara murmurs, Cat’s first name falling between her lips for the first time in front of her.

Kara tangles her fingers with the ends of Cat’s hair, her heart still pounding from Cat’s ministrations, and she whispers, “Please,” before she tugs on Cat’s hand beneath hers. “Come here.”

Cat says nothing this time, doesn’t snark or snip or sneer, instead just resumes her spot on Kara’s lap, slowly. Cautiously, even though she maintains the air of seduction that—in hindsight—she’s been cultivating since they stepped out of the office.

Kara feels Cat’s weight settle lightly on her legs, neither breaking eye contact for the moment. So Kara feels more than sees when Cat slips her hand between them, and back between her thighs, fingers pressing hard on her clit to pick right back up where she’d left her.

Pulling Cat closer, Kara presses their bodies together, and when Cat’s eyes drift to her lips, she tugs her in for a kiss. She can taste herself on Cat’s mouth, can’t stop remembering how Cat had kissed her like she was something to be devoured.

Cat leans back, their lips barely parting before she’s trailing kisses down Kara’s jaw to her neck, her free hand tracing the curve of a breast. “How’s the adrenaline, Supergirl?” Cat murmurs into her skin, and Kara just presses her lips together as Cat’s thumb circles her clit over and over, harder and harder.

She’s close, she’s _so so desperately_ close and for the first time she isn’t thinking about what could happen. Her hands are on Cat’s body—indistinctly, she’s too far gone to process more than _soft_ and _smooth_ and _warm_ —and her fingers are digging in when she needs to and Cat isn’t getting hurt. _Can’t_ get hurt, at least not in a serious way.

Not that she’s thinking about leaving her own marks on Cat’s body.

“ _Kara_ ,” Cat whispers in her ear as she drags her short nails over Kara’s nipple, whispers it with a smile pressed to her skin and like she _knows_ how it makes Kara feel to hear her say it.

Like she knows it’s the last trigger she needs to _let go_ , completely.

And she does. Kara feels the first wave of her orgasm course through her and instead of cutting off every instinct like usual, she lets her back arch as far as she wants, lets her fingers dig into Cat’s hips, lets out a shuddering breath and rides it out until all she feels is contentment.

Cat’s fingers continue moving inside her, her thumb still circling her clit and drawing out the aftershocks that Kara has never really let herself feel, not like this.

Her fingers slow, and then stop, and Kara feels a touch on her lower lip. It’s suddenly electric in the bad way, the too-loud-popcorn-maker kind of way, and her eyes snap open to see Cat looking down at her with her brows furrowed the tiniest bit. 

“Kara,” she says, firmly, and Kara reaches up to cup the hand touching her face. 

“Mmm,” is all she can murmur as her usual filters start to settle, and she feels Cat sink back down on her thighs in relief.

“So?” she prompts, and despite her position on Kara’s lap, all traces of seduction are gone—this is Cat Grant, investigative journalist, asking for a status update. “Are you super once more? Does National City have its hero back?” 

Without really knowing why, Kara’s stomach drops. Cat’s watching her—eyes still locked with hers—but the playful glint Kara had become quickly used to is replaced by the more common sharp and calculating look. 

Kara isn’t really sure she can talk right now, so she looks to the side and pulls her glasses down enough to shoot a quick burst of heat vision at the concrete. It leaves a scorch mark that makes Kara wince, but Cat shifts her weight on Kara’s thighs and doesn’t seem to be too concerned, judging by the smile.

Also sharp and a little too calculating for Kara’s comfort. “Excellent,” Cat says, and pats Kara’s legs as she scoots back and stands.

Cat looks every bit the business woman she is, again, despite the fact that her skirt and shirt and hair are still all mussed.

Where Cat wears such disarray with style and confidence, Kara feels nothing but _exposed_ in her current position. She slips the top of her dress back up, catching sight of her bra a few feet away, and pushes down her skirt to cover herself. 

“See, Kara?” Cat asks, and brushes her hands over her hair, then tucks her shirt back into her skirt. “Sharing your little _super_ ,” she waves her hands dismissively, “problems with me is a good idea because I can help you.” She resettles her skirt and looks off. “Well, certainly more than any of those boys have, though you’d think _this_ was a solution they would be eager to suggest.”

Kara stands up, feeling how slick she is after the orgasm, and wincing a bit at the feel of herself on her thighs. Cat continues on as Kara picks her panties off of the ground, and steps into them, feeling a bit unsteady on the thick heels.

“Not to mention an entire government organization, not that you’ll disclose which one.” Cat makes a little put-out noise, and when Kara glances up, Cat’s still making herself presentable, and blathering on like she didn’t just eat Kara out like a last meal. “You’re very lucky to have me on this little team, I hope you realize.”

The _Yes, Ms. Grant_ that she mumbles is mostly automatic, still in a bit of shock about how quickly Cat can go from seemingly so affected by their passion, to discussing it like some kind of superhero checklist item.

“Kiera,” she says, and looks at Kara again. _Kiera_. _So this is officially done_ , Kara notes, and reaches behind her back to pull up her zipper. “Since this little test was successful, and not a difficult situation to arrange,” Cat says it flippantly, but this time Kara catches the way Cat’s breath stutters a little. “I think this could be a solution of sorts, in order to keep you in shape to protect the city.”

Kara opens her mouth, not really sure what she’s going to say, but Cat furrows her brow, and holds up her hand, palm up and open. “If you’d like.” It’s the closest Cat has ever really come to displaying self-doubt or insecurity, at least about something other than her past.

“I,” Kara starts, and takes a step closer, her eyes dropping down to Cat’s open hand. It’s the left, and there are red marks on her skin. Dark. _Scratches_. “Your hand,” Kara breathes, and takes it gently, so, so gently.

“That’s nothing,” Cat dismisses, but Kara’s face must show her horror. “Oh, for god’s sake I’m not made of porcelain. I barely felt it.”

“When did I...” she’s afraid to hear it, but she knows—how her fingers must have dug into Cat’s hand as she let herself get lost in Cat's touch.

The scratches look bad but Cat’s hand is so delicate, it could have been so much worse.

Cat snorts softly, and pulls her hand back. “Enough,” she levels Kara with a look. "If it had been too much you would have heard about it.” She starts to touch the cut, but stops and pops her chin out, looking thoughtful but smug as she adds, “If you must, just think of it as one more selfless sacrifice I’ve made for National City.” 

Kara’s stomach drops again at the comment, at the sick feeling that it had been such a sacrifice for Cat to touch her. That her entire seduction routine had been a total act (and an unnecessary one at that—Kara had tried to keep her crush under wraps, but Cat wasn’t an idiot—there was no way she didn’t have an _inkling_ that Kara found her attractive).

“Don’t you have some superhero business to attend to, now that you’re back in top form?” Cat asks, and pulls Kara’s attention back.

“Oh,” Kara says dumbly, and Cat walks toward the ledge to pick up her drink, taking a sip as she eyes Kara over the rim. “Yeah, I guess I should,” she gestures over the ledge, but she can’t leave; right now she can barely _think_. She needs to get her things from her desk and get herself together. 

Process everything that just happened here. Process the fact that Cat Grant brought her to orgasm—a very strong, very _wonderful_ orgasm—on her balcony. At work.  

“Don’t forget that,” Cat points with one finger around her glass, drawing Kara’s attention to her bra on the ground.

“Right,” Kara murmurs, and reaches down for it. In the corner of her eye she can see Cat’s heels clicking over to her, and when she stands up Cat is in her space again.

But her eyes are softer, warmer, like they’d been at the beginning of all of _this_ , and her smile is almost sweet—in addition to being smug and predatory, because this _is_ Cat Grant, after all—when she looks up at Kara.

“Next time,” she says softly, and reaches out with her free hand to run the tips of her fingers from Kara’s throat to sternum. Her touch is light, but she presses a bit harder as she says, “Come to me when it happens, and we’ll try it again.” It’s still a bit of a directive, not quite a question, but Cat’s voice lilts up and her eyes aren’t as sharp as they usually are.

Cat’s fingers slip a bit further down Kara’s chest, brushing the curve of her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. And then her fingers are falling away from Kara’s body, Cat’s hand dropping to her side before she walks past Kara, and toward the balcony doors behind her.

With her hearing back, she catches the soft sound of the glass door opening—meaning Cat had shut it at some point, and Kara breathes out a soft sigh of relief—and then settling closed again, leaving Kara alone in the cooling night air that no longer bites at her skin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter dedicated to [meqhanory](http://archiveofourown.org/users/meqhanory/pseuds/meqhanory) for her bday! because what better way to show love to friends than through porn. 
> 
> big thank you to [agathasajax](http://agathasajax.tumblr.com) for betaing this chapter for me, and to [reginalovesemma](http://reginalovesemma.tumblr.com) and [xxtorchxx](http://xxtorchxx.tumblr.com) for giving it a read-through (and me some reassurance!) ❤

Nearly three months go by before Kara blows out her powers again.

It’s not that she waits that long on purpose—she’d never endanger National City like that—but after what happened the last time she lost her powers, well.

There’s a weight to it now. A weight that grows heavier over the weeks after that night on the balcony. That grows heavier in the silence between her and Cat.

Only, silence isn’t really fair. Silence implies that things have changed between them; that Cat has grown colder, has dropped them back to those awful weeks of “professionalism” following her break-up with Adam.

That isn’t the kind of quiet Kara gets. Instead, after that night, things are just as they’ve been between them since Cat found out about her. Cat’s still that special sort of not-friendly-but-caring that she’s always been with Kara, a little too invested to claim to see Kara as anything less than important.

No, the only _silence_ is in regard to that night. The night when Cat had touched her skin and kissed her lips and made her, _well_ , Kara still blushes at the thought. At the memory of Cat settled over her lap, her weight so tangible to Kara’s stripped senses.

Kara had obsessed over it the entire weekend, half-heartedly doing clean-up all over the city, mind still focused on replaying every touch and smile and sound that had fallen from Cat’s mouth to figure out what it had all meant after that exit.

The following Monday she’d been a mess, nearly burning a hole straight through the side of the Noonan’s cup before James saved it, her, and a stack of layouts.

And then Cat had come in, walked by her desk to take the cup and started listing her needs for the day. She hadn’t even flinched. To make matters worse, the longer Cat went on without any sign of recognition, the more uncoordinated and stuttery Kara became.

By the end of that first day, a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she’d somehow hallucinated the whole thing. If perhaps she’d healed in the DEO sunbed and she’d imagined the feel of Cat’s thighs beneath her hands, imagined the heat in her eyes and the way she’d smirked before a kiss.

And then Cat had moved past her, started to walk out to her balcony before she froze. It was a second, _barely_ visible, and if Kara hadn’t been watching her every movement all day, she very well could have missed it. But Cat hesitated before she went out there, and Kara _knew_.

Except, that was the only sign she’d gotten. From that moment on Cat hadn’t made a single misstep, hadn’t mentioned it once.

Which was difficult for Kara, considering it was _all she could think about_. How Cat had touched her so softly and whispered her name and kissed her like she meant it, before slipping off of Kara’s lap and leaving the entire experience out there on that balcony with Kara.

It becomes a loop of sorts, those first few weeks: remembering the moments Kara thought had meant something, remembering how Cat had left, thinking about Cat’s unchanged behavior, doubting her own memory of it meaning anything, focusing on those moments of proof. Rinse and repeat for days.

It took the full first month for her to return to normal, if anything could be considered normal after knowing what it felt like to be touched by Cat Grant.

Kara doesn’t get over it, _isn’t_ over it. After all, she’s surrounded by the other woman constantly. Unable to escape her scent, her voice, her eyes. Unable to hide. And she’s certain that award-winning journalist Cat Grant is aware of how she’s struggling in the aftermath. That Cat must have some idea by now, of her _crush_.

(And it is certainly still there, bigger than ever, even as her heart aches at the thought that their night left Cat so unaffected.)

But Cat doesn’t mention it, just lets their relationship settle into what it had been before the balcony, and Kara—as always—follows her lead.

And it works, sort of. Kara is assistant to the most powerful person in National City and a crime-fighting superhero and a good friend and a great sister and she’s plenty busy. She’s able to let her romantic thoughts of Cat settle on the backburner just like they’d been before, even if the flame is a bit hotter than she’d been used to.

But when she comes to in the DEO months later, powers gone and body weak, when the threat is taken care of and she’s left to rest by herself, her first thought is _come to me when it happens and we’ll try it again_.

In the moment Kara had taken it as an offer, a hint that Cat had been interested in something more. But then she’d been left alone, all but ignored the following week, and doubt started to creep in, to settle where it was so unwanted. Started to smother that loop of thoughts until every memory of Cat looking at her so softly was darkened, singed and torn at the edges.

She feels a little sick now that she can—her stomach is in knots and her heart is pounding and she thinks she might actually throw up for the first time on this planet—and Alex gives her a worried look as she checks Kara’s stats. “I’m fine, Alex, just coming down from the fight,” Kara reassures, voice just slightly shaky and Alex’s brow doesn’t soften but she smiles back and strokes her sister’s arm.

And Kara feels terrible. Feels those knots turn into something heavier, more acidic, because she’s been lying by omission to Alex, to _everyone_ for three months and being powerless again is a stark reminder of that.

She tells her sister and her friends everything, but this thing with Cat—this maybe _non_ -thing—has remained a secret because she still doesn’t know what it meant. What it means. Doesn’t know how to talk about something she still doesn’t understand herself.

And, if she’s honest, she’s not sure she wants to. Not sure she wants to share that night—because no matter what, that night was _significant_ if only for their time together, Kara’s sure of that—because it’s theirs.

Still, the guilt is there and strong and when Alex lets her go home with a blissfully tight hug—she can feel it in her bones and it grounds her—she frowns over Alex’s shoulder as she promises to rest.

* * *

She doesn’t, of course. She can’t. Instead Kara ends up pacing and kicking at covers and eating more than her temporarily-human stomach can handle until it’s nearly dawn and she has to scrounge for the concealer she never uses to hide the bags under her eyes.

The coffee she drinks on the way into work both burns her tongue and makes her even more jittery, and by the time she greets Winn with a weak smile and settles down at her desk she’s already spent for the day.

And she hasn’t even seen Cat yet.

Kara tries to calm herself, tugs at her button-up and straightens her collar and tries not to think about how easily Cat could strip her out of it, without the suit underneath. Her hair—neatly braided away from her face in a half back style, not that she spent extra time getting ready for any reason—is messy from rushing to make it to the office, and she tries to smooth it back as she glances up at the monitors on the wall.

They’re all playing bits of shaky social media footage of last night: the Eradicator reshaping one of the Lord Technologies buildings into a Kryptonian spire, her flying in, the start of a vicious fight that took out a row of palm trees before she could fly them both away from the public.

The rest of the fight—and specifically her using her solar flare—wasn’t caught on film as far as she can tell, and it makes her twitch, not knowing if Cat’s seen it, if she’s figured out what it means, if Cat knows.

Not knowing if Kara _wants_ Cat to know.

Because these past few months have been rough, but things have settled. She’s come to terms—more or less—with their time together being in the past. She’s learned to cope. And she’s not entirely sure she can learn to do it again.

Kara’s eyes stray toward Cat’s office, empty and quiet, and she can see a sliver of the balcony bathed in sunlight through the parted blinds.

And in spite of all of this doubt and anxiety and fear, well. She also isn’t sure she can bear the thought of passing up a chance to be with Cat, again. It might not be wise—she’s almost _positive_ it isn’t—but she’s always been too willing to accept scraps from Cat, and she’s not sure that this _not-thing_ between them would be any different.

Not that she even knows if Cat’s offer is still on the table. If her subsequent silence had meant to serve as an indicator that the entire situation was to be forgotten. That Cat had regretted it immediately.

Her cheeks flame at the possibility of such rejection.

“Kara,” Winn whispers, louder than usual to make up for her human ears. “It’s going to be fine.”

Her pen stills from where she’d been flipping against her notebook, and she looks across the way toward where he leans out from his desk. “What?” she asks, eyes wide, terrified that he _knows_.

But Winn’s brow furrows in concern and he says, “It’s just a few days, Kara, the city will be fine,” and that fear shifts into guilt just as it had with Alex the night before. Though this time it’s paired with a small sense of failure—of _course_ the city is what she should be worried about.

And yet all she can think about is Cat. What Cat thinks, if Cat knows, if Cat wants to be with her again—Cat, Cat, _Cat_.

Kara finally nods, and offers him a weak smile. “Yeah, it’s just two days.”

“Hey, after work maybe we could do a movie marathon? Keep your mind off of things.”

Kara smiles more easily this time, and leans forward. “Um, maybe,” she starts, still so uncertain about what this day will bring. “I’ll let you kno—”

“Uh, Kara,” Winn interrupts her, and looks up, straightening in his own chair as Kara turns to look up at Cat slowing near her desk.

Her heart starts _pounding_.

“G-good morning Ms. Grant,” Kara smiles too wide as she pushes out of her chair, nearly sending it toppling to the floor. Even without her powers she should have been able to hear Cat’s elevator arriving, and now she’s even more thrown off. “Your latte,” she offers, and stumbles over the leg of the chair a little as she moves to hand it over the desk.

Rather than take it from her, Cat narrows her eyes and continues past Kara’s desk and into her office, and Kara rounds her desk quickly to follow, latte still in-hand.

“Quite a night our superhero had,” Cat says as she steps into her office. Kara is behind her but she can hear the smirk in Cat’s voice, the ever-present bit of pride (and not-so-subtle possessiveness) obvious in her voice. “Is our city safe?”

“That’s what the news says,” Kara laughs lowly, used to these sorts of conversations with Cat after all these months.

Cat drops her purse on her couch and pulls her sunglasses off as she nears her desk. “I take it James has some shots for us?” she drops the frames beside her laptop.

“On your desk,” Kara nods toward them, and Cat immediately goes for the shots, holding them up to the light.

There are no pictures of her using her heat vision in the set, just a few distant shots of the fight in the city and some of Supergirl victorious after the fight (and a bit staged, though still honest). There’s a very good chance that Cat still has no idea she’s powerless.

But Kara doesn’t know, and Cat is smart—so smart, _too_ smart—and Kara is almost positive she must be shaking with nerves, with anticipation, with everything.

“Mmm,” Cat hums, and sets the pictures down on her desk. “Stunning,” she taps a finger against one picture, that smirk even wider. “My latte?” she raises a brow at Kara and holds out her hand expectantly.

“Right!” Kara steps up to the other side of Cat’s desk and hands it over. Cat’s eyes narrow a little suspiciously, and she watches Kara carefully over the lid as she takes a sip.

Cat pulls the cup back from her mouth and her lips turn down in a frown. “It’s cold.”

“Oh!” Kara reaches out and takes it back. “I’ll just…” Cat watches her expectantly, undoubtedly waiting for her to warm it with her heat vision. Once Cat had joined the team, it wasn’t as though she had to hide that particular secret any longer. Kara gestures vaguely toward the bullpen. “Heat this up in the other room.”

Cat’s brows furrow and Kara tries not to wince—it’s no busier than it ever is—at her thin excuse.

“Fine,” Cat finally acknowledges, drawing the word out. She stares at Kara with her own laser vision for a long moment. “Has my meeting with the new Trib Editor-in-Chief been confirmed?”

Kara breathes out a sigh of relief that Cat isn’t pushing, and nods. “She will be here at 10, and the Art Department rescheduled for the afternoon.”

Cat waves dismissively, and takes a seat in her chair. “I also need you to schedule lunch for tomorrow with Lauren at the SEC, and make sure you stress that this is for an _interview_ , before she gets any ideas.” Kara blushes a little at the implication and nods, fingers lacing around the coffee cup in her hands.

“Of course, Ms. Grant.” Cat turns her chair to the side, and pulls her heels off, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she drops the new—and apparently uncomfortable—pumps to the ground. Kara catches the way Cat’s dress rides up with the movement, and blushes harder. “I’ll just go…” Kara holds up the cup of coffee.

“Go,” Cat waves again. “On second thought,” she scoops the new heels up and holds them out over the desk. “Set these on fire while you’re at it, and then send Barney’s an email letting Edward go. He may as well have sold me a shoebox full of broken glass.”

“Yes, Ms. Grant,” she takes the shoes from Cat’s outstretched hand, doing her best not to focus on the familiar feel of Cat’s skin against hers, today human and sensitive once more. “I’ll be right back,” she meets Cat’s eyes, the other woman looking at her with a subtle—as Cat Grant can be—sort of curiosity.

“Fine,” she says again, _slowly_ , and Kara has never been more ready to flee.

* * *

“ _Kiera_!” Cat shouts, clearly not for the first time judging by her tone, just as Kara reenters the bullpen.

Kara rushes across the way, pushing her glasses up as a few employees look up at the noise with mild interest. “Yes, Ms. Grant?” she asks as she darts over the threshold, and comes to stand in front of Cat, pacing between the couches.

Cat’s eyes settle on Kara as she stops moving, and her hands fall to her hips. “There you are. What was the hold-up?”

Swallowing, Kara holds her hand out behind her toward the bullpen. “Oh, I was just, um,” she flounders a little, mouth opening. The hold-up was that she’d been across the floor talking to James in his office, trying desperately to focus on something other than Cat (and failing pretty spectacularly).

Not that she can say that. Cat’s eyes widen with impatience, her head tilting, and Kara rushes out, “...on the phone! I, uh, took a call outside. Bad reception.” She clears her throat, and Cat’s eyes narrow a little. Her signature impatience starts to simmer, and her gaze becomes more focused. More _pointed_ , in that way she gets right before she starts making demands. “What, uh, what can I do for you, Ms. Grant?”

Pursing her lips, Cat paces again, though this time she keeps her eyes focused on Kara. Her movements are slower, restrained, and Kara fidgets with her glasses before she can stop herself.

Finally, Cat settles in front of her desk. “You seem…” Cat tilts her head, eyes dropping to scan over Kara’s body. She tries not to blush, or take a step back under the heavy focus. “Different,” she finishes, leaning back against her desk, and Kara swallows hard.

Her heart is beating as she lets out a low, nervous laugh, and pushes her glasses up. “Do I? I don’t, uh, I don’t feel any different,” she laughs some more, and it’s harder to tell without her supersenses, but it looks like Cat stiffens. There’s a tension in her shoulders that Kara is pretty sure wasn’t there a moment ago, and a tightness at the corner of her lips.

She looks...disappointed? Hurt? Neither quite make sense, but—

“My mistake,” Cat says too casually, and pushes away from the desk to take a seat in her chair. Flipping open her laptop, she doesn’t look at Kara as she says, “I need you to confirm with Lisa for the AWM event next month, and then make my travel arrangements. I want a flight out immediately after the ceremony; I won’t get trapped listening to Marissa claim Yahoo messenger is still a valid form of communication again.”

Kara nods in confirmation, but Cat is already typing at her computer, her chair angled away from Kara as much as it can be. “Got it,” she adds, but Cat continues to watch her screen, fingers flying over the keys.

That tension is still in Cat’s frame, her jaw a little tighter maybe—she can’t _see_ this far away—and something like guilt settles over Kara. Only, she isn’t really sure why.

* * *

It’s nearly three o’clock, and Kara doesn’t know what to do. Cat’s sharp eyes have disappeared since noon, but Kara’s jumble of emotions have not. She wants to be near Cat, she wants to get away from CatCo. She wants Cat to know, wants Cat to _pursue_ like she did that night, but she’s terrified she won’t. And equally terrified that she _will_ , and then tomorrow will be that first day after the balcony all over again, resetting them like nothing happened.

She wants Cat to touch her. She wants to touch Cat. To be close enough to see if that tension in her jaw is real, if maybe Cat isn’t as unaffected by everything as she seems. To feel Cat’s lips beneath hers again, to hear _Kara_ in that breathy tone against her skin.

More than anything, Kara just wants to know what she means to her, once and for all.

“Kiera!” Cat calls from her office, louder than she usually does these days, especially when Kara is just at her desk. Louder than she had that morning.

Kara’s gotten next to nothing done today, her thoughts on Cat and her speed reduced, and when she stands up her entire body feels tight. “Ms. Grant?” she asks as she crosses the threshold of Cat’s office, and runs her hands—clammy, god she wishes she had her powers back—over her pants.

“I need you to take these down to legal,” she holds up a stack of papers across her desk, _sign here_ flags poking out between some pages.

“Sure,” she nods, careful to take the papers far from Cat’s fingers. Cat’s eyes slip from hers along with the stack from her hands, and the silence that falls between them is suddenly stifling.

Kara’s back is tighter, her neck stiff—she doesn’t _like_ the way things feel between them right now. How they’ve felt since Cat had dismissed her earlier in the day. She seems more curt than she’s been in weeks, almost like Kara had expected her to be after that night.

Cat picks up her phone once Kara has taken the papers and types on it with her customary exaggerated taps. “Yes?” Cat prompts when Kara doesn’t move. The word is slow and drawn out, disinterest supported by the way her attention stays focused on her screen.

Swallowing, Kara fidgets with the sheets in her hand. “I finished the Art Department meeting minutes and sent them to Tess like you wanted,” she says, and feels foolish the second the words pass her lips.

“Would you like a gold star?” Cat asks flatly, still texting and not looking up at Kara once.

Kara blushes a bit, embarrassed by her own behavior—she knows better than anyone how little interest Cat has in such status updates. But Cat’s sudden chill has her on edge even more than she had been, and she mutters, “I’ll just take these downstairs,” as she turns around to flee the room.

Only, instead of turning around and past the coffee table she navigates a hundred times a day, Kara manages to slam right into it, the sharp corner ramming into her leg. She yelps out before she can catch herself, and in an effort not to fall _onto_ the glass lets the papers in her hand go, falling down around her.

“Are you alright?” Cat asks casually from her desk, and Kara freezes. Realizes that Cat just saw that, just _heard_ her react to pain.

There is no way Cat doesn’t know, now.

“I hurt my, um, m-my leg.” Kara winces at her words, and drops down to the ground to start picking up the papers, back still to Cat as she closes her eyes at her own mistake.

There’s a beat, a few clicks of Cat’s phone keys, and then she says, “I recommend aspirin.”

Kara doesn’t know what to do now. Cat knows, _obviously_ , that she is powerless. And judging by the complete non-reaction, she’s known for a while, now.

And that means there is a very large elephant in the room. One that Kara has no idea how to address.

So she gives herself a moment, picks up the papers and puts them back in the right order before she stands and turns to face Cat, phone still in hand.

“I uh,” she hesitates, waits for Cat to look up but she doesn’t. “I blew out my powers last night,” she says softly, and steps closer to Cat’s desk until her thighs hit the edge.

“So I gathered,” Cat says evenly, and there’s that tension in her shoulders. Tension in her jaw, Kara can see it now for certain. Cat swallows, and her fingers drop to her desk. “Are you alright?”

The question is heavier than the one a moment ago, and warmth blossoms in Kara’s chest. “I-I am. I think. I still don’t have them back. The powers,” she whispers the last part, even though they are the only ones in the room.

“Yes, well, you said that happens,” she drops her phone down to her desk and she reaches up to tug her glasses off of her nose and drop them beside it.

Kara nods, and can’t help but watch the delicate way Cat pushes back from her desk. The way she rests her hands in her lap as she looks up at Kara. “It does. I mean, it has in the past. I haven’t—it hasn’t happened since,” she cuts herself off, but Cat’s focus doesn’t waver. “In about three months.”

She hopes it’s enough clarification, hopes the date means something to Cat the way it means something to her.

“Mmm,” Cat murmurs, and Kara doesn’t know how to interpret the sound. “I see,” she adds, but it clarifies nothing for Kara, so she clutches the papers a bit harder in her hand. “I suppose it was bound to happen, then,” Cat shrugs, and picks up a pen to start marking items on her blotter.

It’s a dismissal, Kara thinks. But Cat’s lack of reaction is unexpected, especially after Kara had agonized and longed for this moment in equal measure.

The reality is. Well. It’s _frustrating,_ really. For the past three months Kara has been entirely confused about what it is she wants from Cat. But this non-reaction?

This is _not_ it.

Kara’s been struggling for weeks now, and she can’t any more. To be so close to some kind of resolution to this limbo and get nothing more than _I see_ is not acceptable. Good or bad, she needs to _know_.

“Last time,” she clears her throat, and leans in a little as the words leave her. As she realizes how inappropriate all of this is. But Cat’s eyes flash, and Kara cannot stop now. “That night, you uh, you mentioned that if it happened again…”

She trails off because she may be a superhero, but today she is vulnerable and her bravery is not bottomless. Especially when it comes to Cat.

Cat’s lips part softly, one eyebrow rising, but it’s not accompanied by the smug smile it usually is. Cat looks almost vulnerable herself when she asks, “Is that something you would want?”

_Yes_. _No_. She doesn’t _know_. “I-I um. If you,” Kara’s blushing, she can _feel_ it. Her hands are clammy again, and she flexes her fingers on the papers in her hand. “If you do,” she says it softly, head tilted down to watch her hands. The words sound juvenile, she knows her cheeks are red, and she can’t stop fidgeting with the documents—she winces at the realization of how she must seem right now, naive and awkward and _young_.

And so she clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and stands taller like the hero she’s is—the hero Cat helped shape—and adds, “Like you pointed out, it’s safer for the city if I’m not out of commission for two days.”

She feels a little cowardly as she says it, hiding behind Cat’s excuse instead of taking the first step toward the honestly she wants between them. But she’s _terrified,_ now that they’re here. Kara has so little experience going after what— _who_ —she wants, and Cat could so easily destroy her in more ways than one. The thought of ruining their relationship, whatever that may be, has her running scared.

“Mmm,” Cat hums after a moment, her lips pursing as her eyes drop from Kara’s down over her body and back up. “Well then,” Cat gestures vaguely to Kara’s hands and looks her in the eye. “Deal with that agreement, making sure the documents are _all there_ ,” her eyes flicker to a sheet sticking out from the couch, and then back up. “Then come down to the fourteenth floor.”

Heat settles in Kara’s belly at the last command, at the darkness in Cat’s eyes and the unwavering focus there. At the implication of what is about to happen, _again_.

“Yes, Ms. Grant,” she nods, and tries not to feel Cat’s eyes on her as she scoops to pick up the missed page. Hopes Cat can’t see from across the room how her hands are shaking softly as she slips it into the stack on her way over the threshold.

Kara drops the forms off like she’s supposed to with a distracted smile at the front desk and gets back on the elevator, trying to calm herself as she presses the button for 14. When Cat had joined the team (and been let in on how exactly Winn was using the ‘unused’ office) she’d had the rest of the floor moved elsewhere to avoid their base being discovered. (“Honestly,” she’d scoffed, “it’s a miracle the entire building doesn’t know.”)

The elevator dings and Cat is standing there, tapping away at her phone like she’s waiting for a late meeting to start.

Kara’s stomach knots, doubt starting to creep back in about what this all meant, what she _means_ to the other woman. Why Cat’s doing _this,_ if it’s her own attempt to be a hero, in some misguided way.

But when Cat looks up she slides her phone into the pocket of her chic blazer immediately, and her eyes drag over Kara before she turns on her heel toward the bathrooms. Cat pushes through the door and once Kara is in, she lets it fall shut before she locks it. “We wouldn’t want your sidekicks to come looking for you down here,” she says with a quirk of her brow and it _does things_ to Kara.

“I guess not,” she tries to smile, but her nerves are strong and her mouth is so dry.

“You know,” Cat turns, and slips her jacket off to drape over one of the chairs that sits in the corner of the restroom. “National City can survive without you for a few days, Kara.”

Cat’s back is to Kara but her tone is as gentle as she’s ever heard it and she’s calling her _Kara_ , like she only does in these important moments. When Cat turns around there is an open sort of question on her face, like she’s waiting to know if this is really what Kara wants. The same sort of way she’d asked Kara that first night.

“I know,” Kara says, finally, sure of her desire if not the consequences, and Cat takes a few steps closer, into the center of the room. It’s big and open and empty, and her whispered response seems to echo for full minutes after the words leave her tongue.

Seem to echo as Cat reaches out a hand and settles it on her stomach, fingers splayed.

Kara’s breath stutters, and Cat looks up at her, still a few inches shorter in her heels. There is a wicked smile starting to twist across her lips, and Kara can’t help but settle her hands on Cat’s hips to step into her as well.

“Well then, Supergirl,” Cat’s fingers brush over the buttons of her shirt before her other hand comes up to start unbuttoning. “I suppose we should get you ready to save the world again.”

The comment is bittersweet; she feels the heat build in her chest at the pride in Cat’s tone, but it’s Cat falling back on the same excuse Kara had upstairs. And it may be hypocritical but it’s not _enough_ , Kara can’t do this again. She can’t question this tomorrow, can’t spend the next month trying to search for clues that this meant anything to Cat, trying to verify the memory of each gasp and touch and breathless kiss.

But Cat’s fingers are slipping her buttons free and she can feel the cool air on her skin as the fabric starts to part. Feels Cat’s warm breath as she murmurs, “Like you did last night,” as her eyes slip to her chest. There is no supersuit there today, just smooth skin and the hint of her bra, and Kara opens her mouth to say something until she feels Cat’s tongue against her throat.

Her hesitation dies in favor of a moan, desperate and relieved, strangled from sitting dormant in her chest for almost twelve weeks. Her fingers press into Cat’s hips, tug her closer as Cat’s mouth opens wider against her skin, her nose brushing the underside of Kara’s jaw.

“Cat,” she gasps, and there’s no disguising the reverent sort of need in the sound. She hasn’t been able to say it to her, to call her anything but Ms. Grant since that night, and so she whispers it again, fingers curling into Cat’s hips.

She’s not supposed to be falling back into Cat this way. She’s supposed to be getting answers, getting _clarity_ first, but all she can focus on is Cat’s tongue and teeth and lips against her skin, the sensations so much stronger than she’d remembered they could be.

Everything is so _much_ , and she doesn’t know if it’s because her filters are gone, because she’s been thinking about this for months, or because it’s _Cat_ , but every greater thought in her head is just gone.

And she’s overwhelmed, so lost in the feel of Cat’s tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat that she almost doesn’t catch it. Almost misses the way Cat’s fingers stumble on the bottom button, the way her fingertips are too gentle against her bare stomach. Almost misses the way one strokes along the dip of her navel, slow and soft and selfish.

It’s the kind of thing Kara’s looking for, some sign that Cat is as affected as she’s been. As hesitant but desperate for _more,_ for Kara.

“Cat,” Kara repeats softer, and lets go of Cat’s hip to cup her jaw and tug her face up toward her. Cat’s eyes are dark but wide, pupils dilated as Cat breathes out through her nose, her fingers finally peeling Kara’s shirt far apart.

“Yes?” she prompts, and her voice is pure confidence, a little sarcastic, a little dry. A little defensive. But this time Kara knows to be watching for the way her eyes drop down, soft, as her fingers still on the fabric of Kara’s shirt.

And _oh,_ vulnerable was the right word to think about Cat earlier that day. Kara’s not sure—a part of her fears she’s looking for what she wants to see—but Cat’s out-of-place hurt at Kara’s deflection about her lack of powers, it’s starting to make sense.

That is, if she dare entertain the thought that Cat Grant was feeling rejected. By _her_. Which would be ridiculous, right?

Kara brushes her thumb over Cat’s jaw, drawing her attention back up, and angles her head up as Kara leans down to kiss her. It’s soft, and sweet, and at first it doesn’t do justice to how Kara feels. To how much she’s thought about this for months.

But then she strokes her thumb over Cat’s skin again, and Cat’s mouth parts on a soft exhale and _oh_. Kara curls the fingers of her other hand into the dip at the small of Cat’s back to tug her closer, hips settling into one another with the movement.

Kara still isn’t _sure_ about what they are—Cat’s touch is a suggestion, a hint, but it’s not _answers_ , not really—but they’re _something_ , she knows, as Cat kisses her back hard and deep. And when Cat makes that soft little gasp, lips parting for a moment, Kara knows there is no way she imagined all of those moments on the balcony, the ones she’s examined in her mind over and over. No way Cat has been as nonchalant about the encounter as she’s tried to seem.

Cat pulls back, tongue flicking over Kara’s lip for a moment and when she pushes at Kara’s shoulders to make her let go, Kara has a brief moment of panic that she’s projecting. That she’s finding in Cat what she wants so desperately to find.

But Cat smirks at her—that usual smugness but something sweeter, too—as she pushes the shirt off and to the ground. Once it hits the tiles she’s back in Kara’s arms, pressing her lips to Kara’s as she walks them back.

And there is no way she is projecting the way Cat sighs _Kara_ over her lips as she pops open Kara’s pants.

When her back hits one of the sinks on the wall Kara’s lips part on a painful gasp, head jerking back at the sensation. Cat’s fingers on her zipper still and her other hand falls to Kara’s side, thumb brushing softly. “Looks like we still have some work to do, I see,” Cat teases, but there is concern in her eyes as her hand slides over Kara’s waist to rub gently at the small of her back in apology.

And there are those words again, giving this— _them_ —purpose beyond each other, and her heart stutters. Kara reaches behind her to take Cat’s hand, and tangles their fingers as she pulls it back, and up toward her face.

She hesitates for a moment and Cat does the same, a hint of confusion in her expression as Kara unfurls Cat’s fingers and turns her palm up. “The world can survive without me for a few days,” she repeats Cat’s words back to her, and Cat starts to pull her hand back.

If Kara had her strength, she would let go, too afraid of trapping Cat in her grip. But she doesn’t and so she holds firm. Holds Cat, for a moment. Because she’s not sure but she thinks she’s broken some kind of rule in questioning if this is really what Cat wants, too.

Cat’s wrist stills under her fingers and Kara breathes out, and ducks her head to press a kiss to the pulsepoint. Feels the steady thrum for a second against her lips. And then Cat is pulling free from her grasp, and her fingers are on Kara’s jaw.

“I know,” she murmurs, and when she kisses Kara the sheer _relief_ of Cat’s confirmed desire is nearly enough to make her legs give out.

Hands falling from Kara’s face, Cat steps in closer, and starts to push at Kara’s pants. She tugs them down over Kara’s hips along with her underwear until both are down to the tops of her thighs.

The porcelain sink is cold against the top of her ass and she hisses, laughing softly at the unusual sensation (and just a little bit high from Cat’s _I know_ ). “New sensation?” Cat asks, leaning back and tugging at Kara’s waist with one hand to pull her with. Her lips are tilted up in a smirk but there is that familiar spark in her eyes that Kara knows for certain now that she did see out on the balcony that night.

“Uh huh,” Kara murmurs when Cat’s nails drag over the sensitive skin of her ass, partially bared.

“A good one?” Cat’s other hand traces over her hip and across the lowest part of her belly as Kara nods sharply. Kara can’t help but suck in a breath, her muscles jumping beneath Cat’s fingers. “And this?” she asks, her fingers dipping down between Kara’s thighs in a smooth stroke.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kara hisses, hips jerking at the intensity she can let herself feel. She’s wet, has been all day at the thought of this, but after the past fifteen minutes of anticipation—and then Cat’s voice and hands and _mouth_ —she’s soaked. Cat murmurs as much, and Kara blushes, and when her fingers press over Kara’s clit her hands fly out to grip at Cat’s waist.

Her fingers aren’t controlled, they don’t _need_ to be yet, but the grip is needy and her eyes fly open having shut at Cat’s touch. But Cat doesn’t seem upset. Instead her touch gets hotter, harder, and when Kara twists her fingers in the material of Cat’s simple dress, Cat lets out a stuttering breath.

Cat’s touch is driven, focused, just like it had been on the balcony—the touch of her fingers, the touch of her tongue—and suddenly Kara wants nothing more than long hours in bed, touching each other without any end goal in mind.

But that’s not what this is—what _they_ are, at least not yet—and Kara is already far too close to coming apart beneath Cat’s hand. Cat’s nails scrape over Kara’s lower back softly and she arches at the sensation, starts to tug at Cat’s dress beneath her fingers.

And then Cat’s hand at her back is gone, instead reaching up for her bra and tugging it down just enough to bare her breasts to the cool air of the bathroom before Cat’s tongue is on one nipple. Her mouth is hot, almost too hot, and Kara lets go of one hip to tangle her fingers in Cat’s hair and hold her in place.

Cat’s teeth scrape over her skin, and she’s surely leaving little bites on the soft flesh of her breast that will only last until this is over. But it’s enough, the thought of what she would see if she looked down, if her head wasn’t tilted back, if she could catch her breath.

Everything is building too fast and too strong, and she lets go of Cat in a rush, the memory of scratching her hand sending a jolt of guilt through her.

Cat’s mouth parts from Kara’s skin, the cool air hitting her wet flesh and making her hiss softly. “Almost back, Supergirl,” she teases against Kara’s sternum, and then she is running her hand up Kara’s back again, right along the curve of her spine as she kisses back up to Kara’s neck.

“ _Oh_ ,” Kara moans as Cat slips her fingers inside, her thumb taking over on Kara’s clit and not letting her recover for a second. Her fingers speed up and, _oh_ , _this is it._ Kara scrambles back, away from any part of Cat’s delicate body, and hooks her hands under the curve of the sink behind her.

When she comes, she can feel the sink crumbling under her hand.

“ _Cat_ ,” she can’t help but cry, hips stuttering with the aftershocks as porcelain falls between her fingers.

“Well,” Cat murmurs, and Kara’s eyes are still squeezed shut but she can hear the smug smile in her voice. “I suppose it’s for the best I had this floor relocated.”

Kara’s still trying to catch her breath as Cat pulls away, fingers dragging small tremors through her body on the way. Her eyes open as Cat’s finger brushes over her nipple and it’s strong, it’s _too much_ before she can get her filters back up, and she moans as Cat settles her breast back into her bra.

She feels weak and strong at once, exhausted and rejuvenated and when her eyes refocus on Cat in front of her, she smiles. It’s big and untempered and god, she’s positive it’s the dopey grin of someone who can no longer claim her feelings as just a crush and she doesn’t even care because _Cat wants her back_.

Cat reaches for Kara’s pants, still pushed down toward her thighs, and tugs them up before her fingers dance over her waist. Kara’s still-sensitive skin jumps at the touch of her fingers. “Are you back?” she asks, but it isn’t cold like it was after the first time. This isn’t award-winning journalist Cat Grant.

This is just Cat.

“Yes,” Kara says softly, ears still adjusting to the noise of their voices. “I, uh,” she starts, not knowing what she’s going to say.

But Cat is stepping back, flipping a lock of hair away from her face as she moves toward the next sink. “I should deduct that from your pay,” she teases, one brow quirked as she looks over her shoulder to the destroyed basin at Kara’s back, before she turns the water on.

For a moment, Kara watches her in the mirror above her sink. How her eyes settle on her hands as she washes them slowly, how her shoulders are tight like they’d been earlier that day. How her spine is stiff and her chest is still rising heavily. And when she listens with her restored ears, she can hear the rapid thumping. She can see how Cat’s still-dilated eyes reflect the horrible florescent light above them.

But Cat is quiet, is retreating like she did that night, and Kara swallows hard, steels herself and steps away from the rubble she’s made. Cat’s eyes lift to the mirror in front of her as Kara falls into place behind her, visible from where she stands just a bit to Cat’s side.

Cat’s heart starts pounding harder, and Kara holds her eyes as Cat’s smirk starts to falter. Reaching out with one hand, she brushes her knuckles up the curve of Cat’s back and licks her lips when Cat’s eyes flutter shut, body arching at the touch.

“Cat?” she whispers, stepping closer into Cat’s space and she can feel the other woman’s heat an inch from her chest.

Cat’s eyes open again, slowly, eyelashes fluttering a moment until she’s meeting Kara’s eyes in the mirror. Her hands have stilled under the water, and Kara reaches out slowly, hand ghosting Cat’s waist before she turns the faucet off.

Droplets fall from Cat’s skin, the only noise for a long moment, until Kara asks, “Did you—you didn’t do this just for the city, right?”

She knows the answer, hears _I know_ echo beautifully in her mind again. But now that her powers are back, now that Cat can retreat, she needs to hear it again. Needs to know that the same thing isn’t going to happen this time.

Cat’s throat moves as she swallows hard and says nothing, and that awful doubt settles over Kara.

But then Cat reaches out, and settles her hand over Kara’s still on the faucet. Her skin is wet from the cold water, but beneath that she feels as warm as Kara does. “I’ve told you before,” her pointer finger traces one of Kara’s knuckles, and Kara flexes her finger into the touch. “I’m no martyr.”

It’s enough of a confirmation for her, more than she’s dared to dream that morning, actually, and when Cat’s pinky curls over her palm, Kara lets out a long breath. It ruffles Cat’s hair and she shivers, fingers stilling, and Kara steps in closer until her front is pressed against the curve of her back.

Cat’s touch has left cool tracks of water on her hand, and when a drop hits her wrist she shivers, too. “ _Cat_ ,” Kara whispers, not desperate like before but just as wanting, and Kara watches Cat’s eyes slip shut in the mirror.

Her fingers are still tracing over Kara’s, though, and it’s still _too much_ with her heightened senses back. She thinks she could feel almost every ridge of Cat’s fingerprint if she concentrates, could maybe find the same imprints on her own skin.

Soft but firm, Kara stills Cat’s hand, and flips her own on top, sliding their fingers together until Cat gasps at the firm grip. Kara moves her hand to the side of the basin, and settles Cat’s palm over the curve.

When Kara’s other hand reaches for Cat’s and tugs it to the other side of the sink, her eyes open. The question in her eyes is clear despite the slightly-neglected glass, and Kara just smiles, eyes falling to Cat’s lips.

“Hang on,” she warns in Cat’s ear, tries to be as confident as Cat is, as she had been with Kara that night, and thinks maybe she succeeds when Cat sucks in a breath. Kara settles one slightly-wet palm over the front of Cat’s dress, sure to wrinkle the delicate fabric over her belly. Her other falls to the hem of her dress, and Kara tries not to smile with pride when Cat’s back settles deeper against her chest.

Kara looks up and Cat’s eyes are squeezed shut, her knuckles strained as she does grip the sink. Her nostrils are flaring slightly from the effort to breathe through the anticipation and Kara thinks _this is how it should have ended the first time_.

Not that this is over. Not even close.

“Kara,” Cat finally says, impatient, when twenty long seconds go by with Kara’s fingers on her mid-thigh. Outer, at that. Her eyes open and they’re _dark_ but not just in the good way. “If you’re going to _do_ something, I suggest— _oh_ ,” her hips pitch forward as Kara’s hand slips under her skirt and to the front of her panties.

Cat’s as wet as she was, maybe even wetter, and Kara’s forehead drops to the back of Cat’s head at the feeling. “Cat,” Kara whispers again, but she can’t stop saying it, can’t stop thrilling at the way Cat’s heart stutters each time she uses her name.

Her breath rustles Cat’s hair again and Kara lets go of her stomach to reach up and pull her hair from Cat’s neck so she can press a hot, long kiss to the curve of it.

Cat’s left hand lets go of the basin to reach up and dig into Kara’s hair, hold her in place. “ _Jesus Kara_ ,” Cat hisses, and Kara’s eyes fly up as she sucks the hollow beneath Cat’s ear.

And, _oh_. She was not prepared for the sight of Cat like this, of _them_ like this. With Cat’s dress wrinkled and pushed up just enough for Kara’s hand to be buried between her thighs, her hair in looser-than-usual curls and Kara’s mouth leaving dark red marks along her skin.

“Don’t you dare stop,” Cat warns when Kara falters at the sight of them, and before Kara can reassure her that that would be the _last_ thing on her mind right now, Cat is letting go of the other side of the sink to press Kara’s fingers harder against her clit through the fabric of her panties.

Her moans are deep and desperate like maybe she’s been holding this in for three months, too, and when Kara teases at the side of the lace like she might dare dip beneath it, Cat licks her lips and says _yes_ as she watches Kara in the mirror.

Watches as Kara’s wrist flexes with the effort to push her panties to the side and stroke her fingers over Cat’s swollen lips. “ _Ka-ra_ ,” comes out broken as she circles Cat’s clit once then twice teasingly before she withdraws. Cat’s eyes darken when they meet in the reflection, and Kara applies the smallest bit of pressure to Cat’s stomach, pressing into the wrinkled fabric.

If possible, Cat’s pupils grow wider, her breath shallower. Her hips circle in an almost desperate sort of squirm out of Kara’s grip, but the second she starts to pull back Cat husks out _“More, Kara.”_

Kara’s got two fingers teasing at Cat’s entrance, her tongue tracing up her neck, and she can feel every tilt of Cat’s hips under her palm, but Cat wanting, asking, _demanding_ for even more makes her face flush bright red.

Leaning back slightly, Kara takes a deep breath as she pulls away from Cat, the band of her panties making a dull _thwap_ against her skin at the retreat. Before Cat can open her mouth Kara adds the smallest bit of pressure to Cat’s belly, her thumb dipping into her navel through the silk in a silent order to stop. To trust her.

Her face is still heated, all of this is so _real_ suddenly, and she wants everything Cat is willing to give her. Everything she’s thought about for the past few weeks. “Wait,” Kara whispers, emboldened by the way Cat’s eyes have softened a little, still dark with desire but now a little stunned. A little curious.

Kara’s fingers are slick with Cat’s arousal, and when she lifts them to the zipper of Cat’s dress she hesitates for the smallest moment before she slips them into her mouth. The action is barely visible in the mirror, but Cat knows, Cat can see enough, and when she swallows hard Kara can hear her heartbeat start to beat harder.

Cat’s fingers come up to rest over Kara’s hand still splayed across her stomach as she watches Kara suck the tips of her fingers before releasing them with a _pop_. It feels almost vulgar in comparison to Cat’s hand resting softly against the back of hers, but then Cat licks her lips and puts her other hand behind her to grip Kara’s hip and tug her close. “Get this dress off of me before it’s ruined,” she orders, and Kara tugs at the zipper.

She has it down to the base of Cat’s spine in an instant, and as reluctant as she is to part from the heavy weight of Cat’s hand on hers, she slips free so that she can push Cat’s dress off of her shoulders. It falls to her waist easily, baring a pretty lace bra that easily costs as much as Kara’s entire outfit, and Kara feels so suddenly out of her depth.

But Cat’s eyes are focused on her when she looks up, and she holds Kara’s gaze as she reaches behind to pop open her bra and let it fall down her arms to the floor.

“You’re staring,” Cat quirks an eyebrow, and Kara licks her lips, tries not to moan when she realizes she can still taste Cat.

“You’re beautiful,” she squeaks out, and any dream she had of being confident is gone, not that she particularly cares. Because when she runs her palms up Cat’s arms, she shivers, eyes closing, and Kara steps back into her to press a kiss to the back of her head.

Cat’s eyes slide back open and there’s a moment, a long beat before she swallows, and reaches past the bunched up hem of her dress to push her panties down to her legs. “Kara,” she starts, and her voice is the huskiest Kara’s ever heard. “I just felt you come on my fingers, watched you destroy a solid piece of porcelain with no effort, and then _taste me_.” Kara’s face flames, and she feels heat settle low in her belly. “I need you to touch me. _Now_.”

As she always does, Kara listens. “Yes, Ms. Grant,” she tries to tease as she cups Cat’s breast gently, but Cat bites her lip and breathes out and Kara can’t help but press another kiss to the back of her neck.

She wants to drag this out as long as possible but Cat’s hips are shifting and her fingers have returned to Kara’s hair, holding her close as her fingers settle between Cat’s legs again.

And _oh_ , the noises she starts to make as Kara draws careful circles over her clit. “More,” she urges, and Kara makes the mistake of looking back into the mirror to watch Cat’s face as she tries to grind against Kara’s hand.

Kara lets go of Cat’s breast to reach up for her chin, and tilt her back enough to kiss her. To taste the sweet moans and strangled breaths she makes, louder and sharper the closer she gets.

Cat’s lips slip over hers messily, the angle strained and her hips moving less rhythmically as she gets closer and closer. Kara can feel her get slicker, can feel her fingers grow less controlled as she tries to follow where Cat needs her without breaking from her mouth.

But Cat jerks from the kiss as Kara curls her fingers inside her, and Kara ends up with her nose pressed to the apple of Cat’s cheek. Her grip on Kara’s hip, holding them together, grows firmer, and Kara thumbs her right nipple teasingly as she cups her breast and holds her up against her chest.

Kara’s eyes flicker past Cat’s nose to look at them in the mirror again, and a white-hot thrill runs up her spine at the sight of Cat—her boss, her mentor, her _friend_ —coming apart in her arms.

“Look,” Kara whispers against Cat’s cheek, and gently nudges her face back toward the mirror. “Look at—” _yourself_ , she almost says, but it sounds wrong in her head, sounds degrading in a way she definitely doesn’t mean. “Us,” she whispers instead, and Cat’s eyes are heavy when they open.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Cat hums when her eyes settle on the both of them, and Kara can’t help but brush Cat’s cheekbone with the tip of her nose, just once. It’s such a small gesture and Kara’s almost certain Cat will miss it—and maybe her thrusts grow a bit stronger, her thumb settles harder on Cat’s clit to ensure she overlooks the sentimentality.

But Cat’s cheek presses harder against her lips and the hand in her hair falls to cover Kara’s on her chest. Cat’s hand is small, her fingers short, and Kara can’t take her eyes off the sight.

And she’s not sure if it’s the way Cat’s walls are fluttering like she’s close, or the contented little sigh in her throat, or the way that Kara can feel Cat’s cheek twitching like she might be smiling if she wasn’t so focused on Kara’s ministrations between her legs, but Kara feels _bold_ when she says, “I wish would have let me touch you like this that night.”

Cat gasps and her hips jerk and her eyes close again. And Kara may feel bolder but she’s still vulnerable right now, and so when she says, “I don’t want to have an excuse to touch you like this again,” she closes her eyes, too.

The _Kara_ Cat whispers is barely a sound, but Kara hears it, _of course_ she hears it. Just like she hears the broken _don’t_ that follows, a little desperate and a lot regretful.

But Cat’s fingers brush over her knuckles and her other hand clutches at Kara’s leg and when Kara pushes with, “I’ll miss you too much,” Cat slips her fingers between Kara’s, and curls them over the spaces there.

Kara opens her eyes at the feeling, and sucks in a breath when she sees Cat’s eyes open, too. Swallowing hard, she stills her fingers and says, “Please don’t pretend again,” before Cat’s walls bear down on her fingers and she grows taut in Kara’s arms as she comes.

Kara holds her through her climax, smiles at the tightness of her grip and the way she goes weak in Kara’s arms a moment after, confident Kara will hold her up.

Her head settles on Kara’s shoulder, and when she opens her eyes she lets go of Kara, hands falling to the sink in front of her.

Kara tries not to panic, tries not to let Cat feel her heart thumping out of her chest from where her back is still pressed tight against Kara. Tries to be calm as she settles her hands on Cat’s waist, and lets the skirt drop back down to her thighs.

“Kara,” Cat starts, and it’s utterly unreadable. Her head is tilted back and her eyes are heavy and her lips aren’t pulled up in a smile but she’s leaning against Kara like she’s the only thing she can count on.

And Kara can see her in the mirror, but it’s suddenly not _enough_ , and so she turns her, leans Cat back against the sink and dips her head down to kiss her while she just _thinks_ for a moment.

Because she doesn’t want to— _can’t_ —beg Cat, but all she hears when she tastes Cat is _please don’t pretend again_.

And so when she pulls back, she says it just once more, across Cat’s mouth, and opens her eyes slowly as Cat does the same.

“Mmm,” Cat hums, but there is a laugh at the end of the noise. “Oh, Kara,” she breathes out, and the sound is so shaky. Cat is looking up at her, eyes narrowed in that familiar but somehow completely new sort of evaluative gaze, and catches Kara’s chin between her fingers for a moment before she lets go.

Kara wants to take it as a confirmation that there will be more between them, that this is the start of something and not the ending. But Cat’s eyes settle on her lips and she is quiet for a moment before she lets go of Kara’s face.

Cat’s hands fall back to her sides and she lifts the top of her dress up, slips her arms through the sleeves, and Kara ducks down to reach for her bra, fallen on the ground. “I thought it would be—”

“Easier?” Kara asks as she stands back up, and Cat is dropping her skirt back down, smoothing it now that she’s pulled her panties back on. She looks almost presentable, if her lips weren’t swollen, her hair not so mussed. If her eyes weren’t still so dark.

“Better,” Cat replies, and her eyes narrow at the implication until Kara ducks her head to fidget with her glasses. She tries to hand Cat the bra, but she pulls a face. “Look at these mirrors, Kara,” she grimaces at the dust. “That will need to be burned. And get maintenance to add this floor back into their rotation.” Cat reaches back to tug her zipper up. “And ask why it was removed in the first place.”

Kara reaches out and stills Cat’s hand, pulling the zipper back up slowly. “Because you had me cancel—”

“I thought it would be better,” she cuts Kara off, but her voice is soft, even. Almost apologetic. “In the long run.” Kara pulls the zipper up to her neck, and when she looks over Cat’s shoulder their eyes meet again in the mirror. “I think we both know this is a terrible idea.”

Kara wants to argue, but she’s told herself the same thing since her crush on Cat started. There are _so many_ potential obstacles, it’s true. But Kara sets Cat’s bra on the sink and settles her hand on Cat’s arm, gently, and Cat shivers.

And those obstacles just don’t seem like _enough_.

Cat turns back around to face Kara, and she leans against the sink, putting an extra inch of space between them. And Kara feels the hint of fear and frustration and hurt that she’s felt for so many weeks start to bubble back up. “And superheroes have to make the right choices, isn’t that it?” Her voice gets a little shaky as she remembers the night she threw Cat from the roof. Stumbles a little when she asks, “Be all that's good and pure in the world?”

Cat’s eyes glint a little dangerously, and the heaviness of the moment starts to fade as she reaches out to settle her hand on Kara’s stomach as she’d done earlier. “You’re certainly not _pure_ , Kara,” she teases. More soberly, “Though it does come with the territory of being a public figure, yes.”

There’s something heavy in the statement, something personal. Something that Kara wants to know, wants to _learn_. She wants more of this, more of her and Cat and nothing else for a while. She wants to get to develop some kind of relationship where she gets to know Cat. Gets to learn Cat.

Cat’s hand starts to fall from her stomach, and she reaches up to grab it. Holds it there softly, her pinky resting on the bend of Cat’s wrist. “So don’t date Supergirl. Date Kara.”

“I haven’t _dated_ in years,” Cat scoffs, but her cheeks pink a little, and Kara can hear her breath get a touch more shallow. And supersenses back, Cat can’t lie to Kara about this—about the fact that the idea of dating Kara excites her, too.

“As driven as you were to have me see you as two separate entities,” her brow quirks in the smallest of admonishments, “I much prefer you this way.” Cat’s free hand comes up to Kara’s glasses, fingering the frames before dropping down to a wavy strand of hair; a little of both at the same time. “As you.”

Cat’s not saying yes, not saying this is a good idea or that it’ll work or admitting that she might want Kara the same way. But her skin is warm beneath Kara’s hand, and her fingers are stroking along her navel again in that too gentle way, and Kara can’t help it.

So she steps into Cat and ducks down and kisses Cat slowly, softly, until she’s aching to never stop.

But eventually Cat breaks the kiss, tipping her head back and pressing her lips together like she’s trying to hang on to the feel of Kara’s mouth. “Now that your powers are back,” she breathes out, and taps at Kara’s stomach. “You should go do your heroic duty and put out the biggest fires.”

The dismissal is sudden, is too soon for where they’ve just started to move. But Cat licks her lip and slides her hand away from Kara’s, down toward the buttons at the bottom of her shirt. “Go, and let me think for a while, Supergirl,” she says, _asks_ , really, because Kara has been around her long enough to know this kind of gentle demand is as close as Cat comes to asking for anything.

She starts to button Kara’s shirt, and when she reaches halfway, Kara stills her hand. “And when I get back,” Kara starts, and Cat looks up, waits for Kara to finish. “You won’t pretend like this didn’t happen?”

Kara means the sex, means the way Cat touched her, the way she touched Cat. But more than that, she means the intimacy. The way Cat looked at her and said her name and talked about _more_.

“Oh, Kara,” Cat sighs again, though this time there is the smallest trace of a smile on her lips, a lightness in her eyes. “I think that ship sailed a while ago, don’t you?”

Kara doesn’t say anything, just lets Cat button the shirt back up to the second button from the top before she rests her hands on Kara’s chest and fingers the lapels. “Come back,” Kara’s hands drop to Cat’s waist, and she takes the smallest step closer, “and we'll talk.”


End file.
